Hope to get back to normal 2x/wk release schedule soon. Its been pretty busy.

Armour: Brimflame

Weapon: Infernal Rift, Stormfront Razor

Acc(10/11): Celestial cuffs, Mana Flower, Sorcerer Emblem, Celestial Emblem, Ankh Shield, Deific Amulet, FrostSpark Boots, Grand Gelatin, Amalgamated Brain, Evasion Scarf.

Health: (450/500)

Armour: Victide Armour (Ranger)

Weapon: Tendon Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis

Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Ocean Crest, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean

Health: (400/400)

The sunset.

It had been far too long since he'd last seen it. The fiery warm hues reminiscent of his smoking furnace were splayed across the sky's wide expanse. Deep oranges, yellows and vibrant reds painted the horizon, glowing off the wispy clouds and splashing the treeline with fiery colour. He sat there, atop The Dryad's castle spire, observing the shocking beauty of the setting sun. The Dryad herself, or - perhaps - some part of her strange physiology accompanied him. A tremendous sheet of leaves were layered over the castle's roof - all angled to catch the last rays of the day. A great flowering stem wrapped roundabout the tall spire like some tremendous snake. It filled the air with a saccharine scent. All around him, the leaves and the vines rustled in the early evening breeze, and The Terrarian was overwhelmed with a sense of calm.

...

An unnatural calm. He wasn't the type to really just... sit around and admire the landscape, but it appeared The Dryad's pollen sedated him to some extent. Normally, this would be worrisome, but he had already spent countless hours sweeping, dusting, cleaning and re-building his compound. He was quite satisfied with his work and thought it appropriate to sit back and admire it.

(You mean to say... you -actually- remember dying? What else do you recall?)

He was also busy eavesdropping on The Guide's and The Deceased Merchant's conversation. Disappointingly, although he was able to hear all their words, he wasn't able to process and understand the bulk of what was being said... but he did catch the gist of it. Something about The Merchant coming back to life in a non-zombie state and being terribly confused about his whole ordeal. Interestingly, this iteration of 'Merchant' had the same scent of the very first one whom died on The doorstep so many weeks ago. He had the same trinkets on him - namely that self-same golden medallion he and The Guide had used to summon The Desert Scourge - he had the same demeanor, and The Terrarian was quite convinced he was actually the same person.

The Terrarian found that to be quite curious - but wasn't nearly as shocked about it as The Guide was.

(Well, young man - I remember this house. I remember bleeding out on this table. I remember... and perhaps this is strange - but I remember you.)

In fact, he was far more excited than The Terrarian had ever seen him! Prior to this, The Guide had been sleeping. He had slept... for... for a long while after The Dryad brought him back to life. While he slept - The Terrarian had patiently lurked about his building for the majority of the day, hovering, guarding, observing. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he always kept half an eye on where The Guide was supposed to be. When his vision was obstructed - he pinpointed The Guide's location by his scent...

So... when The Guide finally woke up and stepped out of his home early this afternoon, why did he blow straight past The Terrarian and immediately engage with this unknown Merchant?! Of course, The Guide had offered him a cursory greeting but... but...

...

The Terrarian blinked and exhaled hard as the chemical calm was consumed by a swell of childish jealously. Rage filled his throat and threatened to burst his head; he could hear his breath hard against the interior of his helmet and he shook his head. How stupid. These were stupid thoughts, and he needed to fight them. He had fought this very sensation back all throughout the day - knowing it was 'wrong' but entirely unable to reject it. He could find no logical reason to support this - frankly ridiculous emotion, but it was there nevertheless. The longer he sat there and watched The Guide interact with The Merchant, the more bitterly jealous he became.

(Ah, do you?... Indeed, you truly have risen from the grave! Incredible!)

And naturally, as if completely outside of his control, his opinion of this 'revived Merchant' went from completely neutral to progressively sour. He stood to his feet atop that ivy covered rooftop and turned to glare through the first house's window. Strange thoughts seemed to posses him. Bizarre thoughts, outrageous entitlements and irrational conclusions. He could not convince himself out of this strange mindset - and slowly but surely felt himself falling prey to it.

(Merchant, I am quite certain you are the first to rise from the dead in this fashion. Tell me, I must know as much as you can remember about this. If you can believe me, after you died a person who looked nearly identical to you appeared. Of course, he had a different personality, but both of you sold similar wares and had the exact same appearance - down to the seams on your coat!)

The Guide seemed completely enraptured by The Merchant... that filthy old man who had stumbled back into The Compound. Why was he suddenly so important? Why did The Guide pay him such regard? The Terrarian sniffed; he felt his jaw tighten. If anyone deserved that sort of attention, wouldn't it be him? Of course, The Terrarian didn't necessarily want to be in that room, listening to another one of The Guide's nine hour lectures - so why did this bother him so much?

(Somebody identical to me?! How strange. I don't have any siblings... perhaps this place has a very powerful spell on it? Yet I've never heard of magic such as this. Regardless, I will tell you all I remember.)

But nevertheless, he was terribly angry about it. His sense of entitlement was being challenged, and had swollen into something far more sinister. Of course... he wasn't entitled to his Guide... but he was the one that had fought long and hard to return to his Guide's side. As he wandered through that morbid, scarlet landscape - only one persistent thought was lodged in his mind. 'Home' was where The Guide was, and he longed to go home. His Guide was his security. His Guide was his companion. Frankly, The Guide was all he needed. Yes, he did appreciate The Dryad and The Party Girl - but only because of what they had done for his dearest friend...

(After all, Guide, although I am a businessman - I know how to be thankful. I recall you weeping over me as I breathed my last. In my final moments, you showed this old man kindness. I was a man whose life was consumed by the love of money. Not a single person who knew me would have wept over me... but you - stranger - are compassionate. Perhaps I have been brought back here simply that I might thank you for your kind actions.)

And now... What was The Merchant trying to do? What were his intentions? Why was he acting so cordially, and why was The Guide accepting him? Hadn't The previous Merchant been an enemy? Perhaps this Merchant likewise had some nefarious purpose? Did he wish to, perhaps, take The Guide for himself? To steal him away and exploit his endless knowledge? No, I would not have that happen...

...

The Terrarian narrowed his eyes as he stared at the glass panes, through which the two men chattered away in animated conversation. The roots of his teeth ached with how tightly he ground them together. He continually summoned and vanished his blade, so quickly that it seemed to flicker in and out of existence. Of... of course he wasn't going to do anything. If he wanted to do something, he would have summoned his newly crafted tendon bow... but.

(But I must ask, Sir Guide, just who is that Knight?)

(Ah, The Slayer? Don't you remember him? He had helped me bring you inside the house when you died the first time.)

(... No. Not at all. I remember everything very clearly, and I am certain The Knight was not there.)

The Terrarian had stopped listening to the conversation long ago. He was far too preoccupied with the infantile selfishness grasping hold of his brain. Why was he so very disturbed that The Guide seemed to have good relations with other people? Surly this was natural... but regardless, The Slayer was filled with that same maddening jealously he had first felt when he saw The Guide simpering at the feet of The Sea King. It was that same bitter resentment that caused him to set his heart on killing Amidas. He had gone down to The Spider caves to collect venom for this purpose (and to pick up this other pink haired straggler, apparently), and if not for that untimely... blast into The Crimson, he would have have carried out his murderous plan.

(Merchant, you remember everything except for The Slayer? Is it possible your memory is foggy?)

(I'm very certain I had never laid eyes on That Knight. In fact, when I saw him just yesterday - I was filled with a sense that he didn't belong in my world at all! I definitely have never seen him before.)

Now that he thought carefully about it - he had only considered poisoning Amidas because he didn't want The Guide to blame him for murder! If The Terrarian had simply killed The Sea King and his subordinates outright - as he had originally planned to - none of those arduous trials would have befallen them. Indeed, he had hesitated because he didn't trust himself to make decisions. He had hesitated because he was afraid of the consequences...

But this was not caution. It was merely cowardice.

From now on, he would be far more vigilant, he would be far quicker to resort to violence. Why not be?! Wasn't his namesake 'The Slayer'? The Merchant seemed to re-appear no matter how many times he was killed and therefore there were no consequences to killing him. If The Terrarian felt he was even slightly suspicious, then wasn't it better to kill until there was no suspicion left?

...

Yes.

Absolutely.

His mind was made up.

He would not lose his Guide again. He mustn't allow even the possibility of it.

With hard eyes, The Terrarian flickered away his blade and summoned his newly crafted tendon bow to observe its construction. The Guide had briefly provided him instructions concerning melding together that strange glowing ore which he dug out from The Flying Eye's stomach. It was a pulsing, disgusting substance, but its power was very apparent - moreso when paired with those piercing starlight bolts.

As of yet, The Terrarian had only tested it on training dummies...

But darkness would soon fall.

The cold evening breeze blew westward over the treeline, seeping through his helm's slatted visor and tickling his eyelashes. The chirpings of cicadas and crickets began to ring out from the forest floor. Owls hooted and dark leaves rustled as nature went still and settled in for the night. As the sun slipped over the treeline, its colours faded like that of a dying coal. The sight was sombering. Sombering enough to silence his wayward thoughts and cool the emotions rushing through his head. He let out a long breath and craned his neck to stare up at the sky... where tiny blinking stars stared down at him from a million miles away.

He was going to do the right thing.

Tonight, those stars would bear silent witness to his devotion.

I think I've gone mad.

I'm falling apart at the seams.

It's raining green and purple.

Chunks of blood and gore, flesh and teeth. Those thousands of pieces of that tremendous worm which split and split - eyes rolling, mandibles gnashing, that horrible worm, that turned into two worms, that turned to four that turned to eight and on and and on.

And now, there's nothing left.

Just green and purple.

Lurid green blood, infected fluid that stains the ground and caused it to shrivel and rot within moments. Hunks of purple-gray skin and flesh hit the ground with wet thumps and squelches. Whatever hadn't been atomized by the rain of knives rains down upon me - staining my armour with organic waste. It's disgraceful. It's disgusting, but I grin in a frazzled, bitter sort of humor.

This... is what a victory looks like... Hah!

I glance up all around me. My vision is slow and doubled. The purging red light had faded long ago - my mana had drained in its entirety and the hallucinogenic worms begin to creep back into my vision. I draw my blade, but my hands shake. I'm thoroughly spent. The knives that rained from the heavens had gouged a great crater into the landscape, and I'm in the center of it - staring up at the sky like a small and wretched creature.

I... I think I've gone mad.

Because I... I wasn't the one who fought that worm.

It was somebody else.

Somebody else is in here!

Nurse: Here, Hero - your schizophrenia pills

Hero: *takes one*

Nurse: *disappears*

0.o

Aight so Slayer is pretty much that kid who gets mad because mom is spending too much time talking to some other kid. Except normally kids aren't like... able to just disappear people on whim. At least he doesn't have seperation anxiety lmao. That'd be pretty annoying (instead he's being a yandere oml).

but in all seriousness... things were getting a little too happy kevk.

Also Faze is just doing his thing - being a crazy schizo

Goblin army soon